


Demi-Gods and Hungry Ghosts

by Cori Lannam (corilannam)



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Break Up, M/M, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-04-15
Updated: 2002-04-15
Packaged: 2018-02-05 07:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1810117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corilannam/pseuds/Cori%20Lannam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the future, Obi-Wan must defend Naboo again--this time from the specters of his own past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demi-Gods and Hungry Ghosts

"Come on, where are you?" he muttered and scanned the graying sky again. The roar of the cascade drowned out his voice even to his own ears, and the cold mist from the river had begun to sting his eyes and face. The chill seeped into his tunic; he ignored the urge to wrap his cloak tighter around his body for insulation. The worst of the cold had not left him in years anyhow.

He leaned out further from behind the column, condensation dripping over his hand from the wet marble. The season made no difference; he always saw them, at least a few of them. He had watched them from this spot on the day he was knighted and took his own padawan; on the day he knighted that padawan and stood up for him at his marriage; on his own wedding day. Good omens, Panaka had told him once, although so far the only good luck he had gained from any of those events was having survived them.

Still, it was a ritual, one of the only private rituals he maintained, and that only because the opportunity came so seldom. A Jedi should never pass up his own small comforts. His master had taught him that, probably on some dank, unpleasant world, a lifetime ago.

A flicker of gold in his peripheral vision drew a grunt of triumph. A solitary bird soared above him, circling over the river, then swooping down over the edge of the waterfall. It reappeared to perch on the cliff edge and waddled a few steps with little apparent purpose. Then it launched itself back into the open air, wings glittering despite the overcast sky. It circled, never straying far; golden birds lived deep in the swamp and only appeared above this one particular fall.

He scanned the rest of the sky, but no other birds appeared. They usually traveled at least in pairs, if not entire flocks; he wondered what kind of omen it was to see just one of them flying alone. In any number, the Naboo had long held the birds as holy icons, avatars of Sedana, Nabooese goddess of peace and safety, whose statue faced out toward the swamps beyond the cliffs in front of him. She guarded the hangar Obi-Wan had just come from, where the bright yellow fighters, designed and named after her sacred bird, stood ready to defend the peace and security of the planet.

In Obi-Wan's opinion, the actual birds had as good a chance as the fighters against what was coming. Not that he would dare suggest that to Panaka.

The bird sailed high up into the sky, the arc of its passing more graceful than any mechanical device could hope to replicate, then descended until it landed with a less graceful flapping of wings on the head of the statue. It faced Obi-Wan, tail feathers drooping down over Sedana's brow, and peered in his direction.

"Hello there, little friend. Are you here to bring me luck?" Jedi eschewed the fragmentary gods of planetary religions, and he ought to feel ridiculous talking to a bird in any case. But Qui-Gon had once taught him that all the gods of the many peoples of the galaxy existed as manifestations and touchstones of the same ubiquitous Force with which the Jedi communed directly. Nothing sacred should be derided. And luck was not something he could afford to turn down, however dubious the source.

It cocked its head at him and chirped a reply. He blinked and tilted his own head with surprise. That had been a loud chirp, much louder than the bird's size and distance made likely. It bobbed its head, pecked at the back of the stone headdress it stood on, then took off, vanishing into the mist over the river without another glance at him.

He turned away, smiling at his own superstition. Then his heart jumped--the bird chirped again, just as loud, just as close. He jerked back around, but no bird sat on the statue, nor anywhere else within eyeshot. A third chirp almost made him doubt his senses before his hand went to his belt by instinct to seize the comlink that continued chirping away, oblivious to his embarrassment. "Kenobi."

"General, you asked to be informed when Senator Organa's ship entered the atmosphere." The voice of Theed Space Control was low and calm, with a husky tinge that made Obi-Wan think she should be doing holo voiceovers. Ship captains flirted outrageously with her, and she delivered sly innuendoes in return. But never to him. He wondered if he should be pleased or insulted.

"Thank you. Inform Senator Organa I will meet him in the hangar." He clicked the comlink onto another frequency. "Sabe."

"Yes, General."

"It's time. Get them ready."

He clicked off without waiting; any reply would have been drowned out by the grind of the hangar door as it rose. A speck of red emerged from the cloud cover and soon developed into a small Alderaanian cruiser which angled for the opening hangar. He squinted up at it and smiled. Bail had refurbished a heavily-armed escort fighter into a personal transport, sacrificing the luxury of his old yacht for speed and security. And when they finished it, he had made them paint it diplomatic red, as though he expected Palpatine's death squads to show respect for the civilities of an era they had helped destroy.

Hopping down from his spot behind the colonnade, Obi-Wan crossed the short length of grass to the hangar. The engines whined closer as he leaped up the steep slanted lip onto the floor of the interior, then the ship roared over him with a howling gust of cold air. He took hold of his cloak to stop it flapping as he moved forward and shielded his eyes from the wind as the ship unfolded its landing gear and settled to the ground.

The boarding ramp lowered immediately as the outer door began to release; Bail must have been waiting by the hatch during the approach. And as the hatch lifted, a pair of meticulously shined black boots appeared, framed by a silver-hemmed cloak in deep indigo that could only belong to Bail Organa--or whoever had pried it off his cold body. The rest of him cut an equally impressive figure, for although his dark uniform was almost identical to the one Obi-Wan himself wore, his decorations and cool, aristocratic features were unmistakable for anything but a royal prince.

But he was not like most of the princes Obi-Wan had met of similar pedigree, for the boots were already in motion before the hatch had fully cleared the flawlessly-coiffed hair, and the aloof expression dissolved into a broad grin when he spotted Obi-Wan. "General! You move faster than my ship, apparently. They said they would inform you when we entered the atmosphere."

"I didn't have far to come. And you, too, moved faster than I expected." He returned the smile and moved forward to clasp Bail's outstretched hands. "I don't notice any pieces of your ship missing. I trust your journey was without incident?"

"Without incident, yes." The gravity returned to Bail's manner. "But not without peril. We arrived so quickly because by tomorrow we would have been too late."

A chill passed through him--ridiculous, since he had expected this. "Anakin?"

"His own self. And--" Bail hesitated, and Obi-Wan smiled again, though fainter. He found it touching, the way people still tried to spare his feelings.

"And Qui-Gon?"

"Yes. Our self-anointed emperor is taking this very seriously."

He nodded and turned to lead the way toward the palace. "He should, or we will destroy him. Come, the Queen awaits."

Bail raised his eyebrows, but fell into step beside him. "You sound more confident than our present circumstances would give you reason for. Has your mysterious Force told you something?"

His tone was less flippant than his words; the royal family of Alderaan had a long history of Force sensitivity, and it had always been a great disappointment to Bail that he had been born with almost none. Obi-Wan also thought it was a shame. Bail would have made a magnificent Jedi-and they needed Jedi badly. The Clone Wars had decimated the order, and of those who survived, over half had followed Anakin to join Palpatine's glorious new order. "Nothing my common sense hadn't already informed me of. No, this way, we're taking the tunnels. There's no point in doing Imperial Intelligence's job for them."

Speed played a greater role than secrecy, as Bail had probably already deduced. The palace complex did not have a room or corridor that Anakin had not known, and that Imperial Intelligence did not know about now, but the underground route was the fastest way between the security buildings and the main palace. They walked in silence, except for the ringing of their boots on the stone floors, until they reached the stairs leading up into the residential area of the palace.

Taking the steps at a jog, they came up into the office area of the royal apartments. Two Naboo Security officers stood in front of the doors to the private suites; they saluted and stood aside as Obi-Wan approached. "Her Highness is in residence?" he asked the senior of the officers.

"Yes, General," she said and triggered the door release.

He strode past them, Bail in his wake, and halted at the sight of the cradles set up in the main reception sitting room. Bail paused behind him, then continued forward past Obi-Wan until he caught sight of the slender robed figure standing beside them. "Your Highness."

She turned. "Senator Organa. I am grateful for your quick arrival."

"I am always at your call," he said and bowed. "As are the resources of Alderaan, for whatever service we can render."

Her head dipped in acknowledgement, just enough to rustle her delicate headdress. "You have already done so much more for us than we can ever repay."

Bail waved a hand, as though dismissing the outfitting of an entire fleet above Naboo and the refuge of his personal home as nothing out of the ordinary. Obi-Wan reflected that for Bail, it probably was not. "As if I would allow you to harbor thoughts of repayment."

"We are grateful." She nodded again, and Obi-Wan shifted beside Bail. High talk between statesmen had its place, but he would feel better about it when an Imperial attack force was not threatening to bear down on them at any moment. Bail caught the signal and moved forward to the cradles.

"These are the children?" At her nod, he reached into the nearest cradle and lifted out a bundle of cloth that immediately began to squirm. Bail laughed and bounced the child on his chest, then over his head. "Which one is this?"

"Leia," Obi-Wan replied. Most people could not tell the twins apart except for the color of their swaddling clothes, and by sight, neither could he. But each baby had a distinct presence in the Force that a Jedi would never be able to mistake.

"A good Alderaanian name." Leia gurgled with joy as Bail tickled her, and a wistful smile softened his features. A pang of guilt shot through Obi-Wan. When Bail's wife had miscarried for the third time, it had devastated them, but it was a stroke of good luck for Obi-Wan. He hoped the day would come when his plans did not hinge on capitalizing on the grief of his friends.

"She may have to be a good Alderaanian girl for a very long time." Her voice was sad and drew a hooded glance from Bail, as much guilt in it as pity. Obi-Wan knew he wanted these children as much as he hated the price of getting them.

Obi-Wan stepped forward and lifted Luke from the cradle next to his sister's. Best they move quickly, before either of them had a chance to rethink their agreement. "Come. I want you well away from the planet before the Imperials get within scouting range."

"I will go with you, to say good-bye."

He nodded and eased the baby into her arms. They had planned it this way; her presence would ensure no one stopped them. "Let's go, then."

The guards fell in behind them as they exited and headed back the way they came. "I have a nurse aboard ship," Bail rambled, half to himself, and managed to keep playing with Leia even as he walked. Obi-Wan hoped he would not try bouncing her in the air again; the top of Bail's head almost brushed the ceiling of the underground passage. "They will lack for nothing, even in space."

She did not acknowledge the continuing list of amenities he would offer the children. Neither did Obi-Wan. As long as Bail got them off Naboo and kept them away from their father, he could dress them in sackcloth and feed them nerf milk for all Obi-Wan cared. They jogged up the last staircase and strode through the back entrance of the hangar. Obi-Wan did not slow his pace until they were within eyeshot of the Alderaanian cruiser. Then he stopped short so abruptly that Bail almost ran into his back. "General?" Bail said as Leia started to cry, but Obi-Wan only dropped his head and sighed.

Next to the lowered boarding ramp, a small figure faced them, identical in all outward appearance to the woman beside them. "Senator, General." Her voice carried across the hangar with the ease of a lifelong public speaker. She did not sound happy. "You were going to steal my children away and not even let me say farewell to them?"

Obi-Wan lifted his head and regarded her without remorse as they started forward to meet her. "I thought it would make things easier."

Amidala returned his look darkly when they stopped in front of her. "You were mistaken, General Kenobi."

Bail looked from her to the woman he had been addressing as the Queen, then let out a huff of resignation. He never had been able to tell Amidala from Sabe, her bodyguard double, unless they were side by side, a fact Obi-Wan knew she had occasionally taken advantage of while on Coruscant in better times. Bail knew it, too. "Your Highness. I apologize."

She did not shift her gaze from Obi-Wan's. "Do not trouble yourself, Prince Organa. We do not blame you."

"We don't have time for this, your Highness," Obi-Wan said in a low voice. He projected his intensity to her, respectful, but not giving her room for refusal. Another trick his master had taught him, the only way to manage royalty.

"I know," she replied and held his gaze another moment before turning to Sabe. "We need you in the Command Room."

Her double nodded and surrendered the drowsy Luke into his mother's arms, then turned and left, stride brisk and bearing regal, to resume the Queen's place elsewhere. Amidala's visage softened as she cradled her son and traced his features with a single finger. She kissed his forehead, then handed him to Obi-Wan before she reached for her daughter.

Luke settled trustingly against Obi-Wan's shoulder, but Leia squalled her disapproval at being removed from her new playmate. Amidala shushed and nuzzled her until she quieted. "They like you. I'm glad."

"Amidala, I promise you--" Bail began, brows drawing together in earnest appeal, but she cut him off to thrust Leia back into his arms.

"Take them. Go now."

He hesitated, then nodded and touched the comlink on his belt. A small, rotund woman dressed in the livery of the Alderaanian royal house appeared from within the ship and, at Bail's nod, came down to take custody of Leia. "Your Majesty," she murmured with a deep curtsy to Amidala, who remained impassive as Obi-Wan stepped forward to relinquish Luke into the care of the nurse.

"Settle them in." Bail waited until she bobbed her acknowledgement and vanished back into the ship, then turned to clasp Obi-Wan's hands again. "Take care, my friend. And don't lose my ships."

"I'll do my best." He pressed Bail's fingers, wishing his friend did not have to leave. But there was no point in both of them getting killed, and Bail was needed more elsewhere. "May the Force be with you."

Bail bowed once to Amidala. "Good luck, your Highness," he said, then jogged up the ramp.

"Bail Organa," she called after him, and he paused to turn under the hatch. "If anything befalls my children, make sure it befalls you as well."

His teeth flashed, then he vanished into the hold as the hatch closed behind him. The engines hummed to life, and Obi-Wan stepped back beside Amidala as the cruiser maneuvered toward the opening hangar doors. As the ship lifted off and shot into the sky, her face remained as impassive as before as she watched the ship carrying her children vanish into the clouds. "Can you kill him, if you have to?" she asked after a long pause.

After an equally long pause, he answered, not needing to ask who she meant. "It won't come to that."

"You know that?"

"There are two of them and one of me. I doubt they'll allow me the chance to make that choice."

"You're better than they are."

"No, I'm not. I'll do what I can, your Highness, but I'm not a god."

She amazed him by smiling. "You're a Jedi. That's close enough." Her hand stole into his. "Will you be staying here tonight?"

"No," he said. "I'll sleep aboard the Majestic. I have plans to go over with Nessim, and they won't give us any more warning than we already have."

"Will you at least dine with me?"

"Of course." He would do whatever he could to ease the tremor of loneliness and grief beneath the steel in her voice. It made her sound more like a girl than she had been when he first met her. "And tomorrow, too, I hope."

Her grip tightened, and he squeezed back. They shared a grim bond even Bail could not fully appreciate, facing a battle knowing that victory meant the deaths of ones they had once loved more than their own lives. "I wish you'd tell me everything was going to be all right," she said with forced levity, and he laughed as she had intended. He had never told her that.

"No such luck, old friend." He tugged at her hand. They could take the long way back to the palace this time. "But the Force is with us. And your gods, too."

She cast him a wry glance. Her nails dug into the back of his hand, but she came without protest. "You said that the last time."

***

Even dreams were cold in space.

He wrapped his cloak tighter around his body. Beyond him, outside the viewport, stars wheeled across the cold velvet of space, their brightness pricking behind his eyes, their motion dizzying. It was the ship that moved, of course, not the stars, but he had been staring at them long enough to feel as though he was the only fixed object in existence, while the rest of the galaxy spun madly around him.

When the door opened behind him, the universe tilted just a little bit more.

The booted footsteps rang loud on the metal deck, but not as loud as Qui-Gon's presence in the Force. The sense of him announced his arrival as though a klaxon had gone off inside Obi-Wan's head, sending the rest of his senses into tumult. Qui-Gon had always had that effect on him.

The steps halted behind him, close enough to feel the faint heat of Qui-Gon's body against his back. They stood in silence until Obi-Wan could not stand the pressure of everything unspoken between them. "You're going with him." It was not a question, and he did not turn around.

"And you will not." It was even less of a question; they knew each other far too well. The words were only a painful formality. He wondered why they even bothered, except that they could not help it.

"I was his master. Do you think I don't know what he is?"

"You know what you see--or at least what you think you see. I only wish you could look beyond your judgements to the will of the Force."

The will of the Force. Their link had become shaky and tenuous after so many fights and so much distance, but his bond with his own padawan had stayed just clear enough for him to know when Anakin had embraced Qui-Gon. Anakin plied him with wide eyes and words of loneliness until Qui-Gon's equally lonely and compassionate heart had responded. His padawan had seduced Obi-Wan's lover into his arms and evoked moans and sighs Anakin had no right to hear. Had that been the will of the Force, too? "He has destroyed us."

"He will save us. He is the Chosen One."

Obi-Wan laughed and let the ringing bitterness steel him for what was to come. "I envy you the surety of your convictions. But the schism in the Republic has sundered even the Jedi now, and more of us are dying every day because one crooked politician wants to rule the galaxy. That may be the will of your Chosen One, but you will never convince me it is the will of the Force."

Large hands closed over his shoulders, and he quailed from the pity in them. "You will see, someday. He is strong in the Force. We will keep him strong in the light, and he will make things right."

"I hope so. I'll let that comfort me the next time a friend is blown away by a bounty hunter." He fought the instinct to lean back into those hands, against the familiar bulk that could still comfort him, if he let it. The hands tightened, and he felt warm breath stir the hairs on the back of his neck. "Are you still fucking him?"

The grip on his shoulders tightened until it hurt, but he was glad for the pain. It helped him beat down the urge to beg Qui-Gon not to go. "I was never unfaithful to you, Obi-Wan."

"If you say so." Perhaps Qui-Gon's understanding of fidelity differed from his. Perhaps nothing counted when it came to Anakin. "There will be war between us, and soon. You know that."

"There is much that stands between us. But may the Force strike me dead where I stand if I ever raise a hand against you."

He laughed, genuinely amused. "May that oath mean more to you than the last vows you made to me."

"Anakin has also sworn it. You have nothing to fear." Soft lips pressed to the nape of his neck, and he shivered at the warm breath and bristle of hair against his skin. "Obi-Wan...." His name was a plea, a prayer, a love-word, but he heard the resignation behind it. They had reached the end.

Qui-Gon shifted behind him and dropped his forehead to rest against the back of Obi-Wan's head. The near-dead connection between them flared to life, as sweet as ever, a mouthful of water after months in the sands. Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut and held himself impassive against the shimmering of regret that passed through them. The shimmering intensified, coalesced into pain, then dissolved, taking all but the most basic sense of Qui-Gon's presence with it and leaving only the cold behind.

Dimly, he felt Qui-Gon's fingers still digging hard into his shoulders. It hurt, but not as much as when those fingers released him and brushed his cheek once lightly in farewell. He kept his eyes shut and drifted into a state of numb relief. It was over. When he opened them again, Qui-Gon was gone.

The inside of his head ached, but the stars in front of him did not blur. He looked down at his unsteady hands. The silver band came loose as easily as their bond had, and he dropped it into the smallest side pouch of his utility belt where his fingers would never brush it.

Sometime after, the stars dimmed, then extinguished, leaving him in the soothing darkness of a trance state. His awareness expanded, and he realized he had fallen asleep while meditating, which explained the vivid dream. Certainly he would not have chosen to relive that day when Qui-Gon left him, not ever, and particularly not when the fate of a planet could well depend on him getting a good night's sleep. But the Force never scheduled itself to his convenience. And it had a wicked sense of humor.

He still felt Qui-Gon's presence as a film over his consciousness. It seeped into the sore and empty places in his mind, giving him a false sense of his old lover's proximity. He found his center and sank deeper into the trance, but his sense of Qui-Gon only intensified, rippling with disquiet. Qui-Gon really was nearby, and he was troubled. With a padawan's indelible instinct, he pressed forward to find the source of the disturbance, felt Qui-Gon's swift and searching response--

Then the darkness around him surged up and slammed down, enraged, forcing him to retreat or be crushed beneath it. His eyes snapped open and he choked for breath. He struggled to throw up defensive walls until the psychic pressure eased and his heart stopped pounding. Anakin. He had exceeded Obi-Wan's power while still a boy, the strongest and brightest of them all, but even he could not break through a Jedi master's shields. Not yet.

For him to feel them so strongly, they must be close. As though on cue, the attack alarms bleated overhead, then his door slid open and the ensign attached to him, the young one whose name he could never remember for longer than five minutes, skidded into his quarters. "General. You didn't answer your com. Captain Nessim asked me to wake you and bring you to the bridge. Two Star Destroyers have entered the system."

"Thank you, Ensign." He remained seated cross-legged on his bunk, waiting for the adrenaline to fade and the ensign to leave. The ensign frowned, perhaps expecting more urgency about the approaching threat. But Obi-Wan knew who they were and where they were, and he would not be rushed.

"General, my orders--"

"Tell Captain Nessim I will join him shortly." The ensign still seemed reluctant to leave without him, lingering in the doorway. Obi-Wan fixed him with a malevolent stare and lifted his hand as though to use the Force--or cast a spell.

"Aye, sir." The ensign gave the sketchiest salute Obi-Wan had seen in his years of military service and vanished, his haste proving that the slow massacre of the Jedi Order had not yet diminished their mystique.

As soon as the door shut in the darkness again, he stood. His hands smoothed the clothes he had slept in, although the tough black fabric of his uniform resisted all attempts at wrinkling with a snooty fervor. He found his belt and fastened it around his waist. Bail always gave it pointed looks, a silent comment on the shabbiness of an old utility belt adorning the sleek dark line of an officer's garb, but he had learned not to question a Jedi's chosen eccentricities. Obi-Wan paused in the automatic motion to consciously touch, for the first time in a year, the small pouch that rode against his left hip. Qui-Gon's nearness preyed heavily on his mind.

His preoccupation with Qui-Gon settled, as it had his entire life, into the back of his awareness by the time he reached the command deck. Captain Nessim rose from his seat and saluted, as though used to giving up command of his ship. "General Kenobi," he greeted. Obi-Wan nodded an acknowledgement and took the proffered command chair. "Two Imperial Star Destroyers came out of hyperspace and entered the system eleven minutes ago."

"Who are they?" As if there were any way he could not know. Anakin's presence towered in the Force, thunderclouds over a mountain, while Qui-Gon provided a quieter but more distracting ripple. But the sooner he spoke the names aloud, the sooner they would be demystified, and the faster the aura of fear around the crew would dissipate.

"The Executor," Nessim answered. "And the--"

He paused, and Obi-Wan gave a tight smile. Funny, how they always named his fallen padawan without hesitation, but seemed reluctant to speak of the master who had also left him. He wondered if Bail had warned the man to be delicate. "The Defiant?"

"Yes. We have moved to intercept. The Unifier, the Transcendent, and the Imperishable are flanking us. The A-Wing and Naboo Security squadrons are in their fighters and waiting for your orders."

"Deploy them." He pulled the arm display over and studied the schematic, letting his mind fall into the patterns of ships and defensive arrays. Space battles were not his area of strength; he preferred to fight on the ground, with troops and his saber and an entirely different kind of strategy. But today, if their enemy made it to the ground, they would have already lost. "When will they be in range?"

As he spoke, the deck around them shuddered and rocked. "Incoming fire, General." The tactical officer sounded reassuringly calm, considering the force of the impact. Obi-Wan admired her composure, though he would have been happier with a little more advanced notice than that.

"That was your warning shot." The familiar voice boomed from the speakers and into Obi-Wan's bones as the viewscreen dissolved into the beautiful and terrible visage of Anakin Skywalker, decked in his Imperial regalia. The Force shuddered as hard as the ship had, unmasking the looming signatures, much closer than they had felt to Obi-Wan a moment ago. Anakin's strength had grown.

The communications officer stared at his hand, still poised on the transmission panel, with bewilderment, and let out a strangled, inquisitive noise. Obi-Wan reached out a hand and broke Anakin's mental hold over the man, as though swatting his child padawan's hand away from a tray of sweets. "Don't do that again."

Anakin only laughed, eyes and teeth gleaming through the miasma of darkness Obi-Wan saw around him. "You look well, my Master. Has my wife been taking very good care of you?"

Fury sparked inside him. Only his sense of Anakin's goading anticipation, and his suspicions of who else might be listening, let him bite back his opinion on how much sanctity Anakin afforded to anyone's marriage. He released his anger within seconds, but Anakin grinned. "My poor, jealous master. As if I would touch that old man of yours. You really should have known better. You taught me that mind trick yourself."

Obi-Wan slowly sat back, mind reeling from the insinuation, all the pieces of the puzzle snapping together in a horrifying mosaic. "If you value your life, Anakin Skywalker, you'll stop speaking now."

"As amusing as it is, I didn't come here to play with you, General Kenobi." Anakin leaned forward, matching him fire for ice, face twisting in a snarl. "I came for my son."

His son? Obi-Wan held still, in mind and body, careful to reveal nothing. Did he only care about Luke--or did he not know about Leia at all? "You may certainly see your son whenever you like. Just leave the Star Destroyers behind."

"You have kept my wife from me. You will not steal my child. Get out of my way, or I will remove you." The screen went black with a shower of sparks, and the boom of the Executor's blasters hitting their shields drowned out the tactical officer's shout.

Tiny pricks of light swarmed over his display as TIE fighters met A-Wings in a hundred dogfights between the larger ships. "All power to the forward deflectors," Nessim ordered. "We're going to take out their command deck, or their forward guns at the very least."

Obi-Wan smiled as he tapped a code into his console. Bold words for four battlecruisers facing two Imperial Star Destroyers, but they might still have a chance. He sent the simple transmission in a blip to the other commanders, not bothering to encode it. Let them intercept it, for all the good it would do them. Their success or failure now depended on less tangible factors. Anakin's power in the Force had grown, but his perception of the Living Force seemed to have diminished. How could he not know he had twins? And if he did not, then surely Qui-Gon did. Whatever was going on, it could well be the difference between salvation and destruction.

"Ready, General." Nessim resumed his place next to the command chair, his lined face set in a calm acceptance even a Jedi would envy.

"Go, then." The deck vibrated beneath his feet, both from the hits they were taking and the rumble of the engines propelling them forward against the firestorm. Their deflector shields would hold for a little while longer; the Star Destroyer could have taken them out with only a little more effort, and Obi-Wan remembered what Qui-Gon had told him about Anakin's promise not to harm him. He intended to test that vow to its limit today.

On his screen, the fighters sparkled and winked out as each dogfight reached its inevitable conclusion. Every death, on his side or theirs, pricked at him; he blocked them out as much as he could with a vague sense of guilt. His master had been diligent in teaching him that every life should be felt and revered, especially when one was responsible for its ending. But surely even Qui-Gon had learned to desensitize himself. One had to. Too many people died in war.

In between the specks, the larger shapes of their battlecruisers moved toward the even larger masses of the Star Destroyers. They had not placed a high priority on subtlety when planning this maneuver. Any Imperial with a functioning eye would know they were trying for a quick group strike to the upper shield generator, hoping for a chance to take out the nerve center of the ship. It was a desperate maneuver, meant to disable without killing, and it was exactly what they would expect from him.

He so hated to disappoint.

A soft alarm chimed at the tactical station. "Captain, General, the Executor is powering up the upper deck lasers."

Damn. The big guns. "Where are they aiming them?"

"At the Unifier, sir. Unifier is beginning evasive action."

For all the good it would do them, the poor bastards. "Tell them to run if they have to."

"Too late," Nessim murmured.

Not too late, Obi-Wan silently contradicted, fixing his gaze and all his will on the monitor. Just a few more seconds, that was all they needed, just hold out a few seconds more....

The second energy surge came only a second after the first, so close only a Jedi could distinguish them. "Unifier has been hit." The tactical officer's voice wavered almost imperceptibly. "Unifier is gone."

He watched the display. The pain of the Unifier's passing washed over him, but his focus did not waver from the screen. One more flash of light, one big one, that was all he asked for. He watched the shadow creeping around the back of the Star Destroyer, and a moment later, the flash came. His heart leaped, then stuck in his throat as the flash faded and he realized where it had come from.

"General," the tactical officer said, finally sounding as dismayed as Obi-Wan felt. "The Imperishable has...exploded."

"How is that possible?" Nessim demanded. "The Destroyer didn't fire."

"He used the Force to detonate the engines." Obi-Wan had underestimated Anakin yet again, but that, at least, was no surprise given his luck. And he had told Bail that Imperishable was a terrible name for a battleship. "Back off for now. He won't fire on us unless we force his hand."

He felt the surge in the Force an instant before the helmsman shouted. "Captain! Something's happening with the engines!"

The rumbling from the engines increased to a whine as the reactor strained. Obi-Wan flung his own power against it and fought to slow the overload. His knuckles whitened on the chair arms, and his lungs struggled to maintain their rhythm. The inside of his skull burned, but he kept pushing Anakin back, keeping the engines just short of critical overheating. Time ground on, until a voice that came over his private com channel, a woman's voice that should not have been there, brought him back to his physical surroundings. "Anakin! Stop this. You won't get what you want."

"But I will, sweetheart." As Anakin's voice came over the comlink, the Force barrage diminished enough that Obi-Wan could spare the concentration to move again. "You'll give our son to me, or I'll take him from you."

Obi-Wan slammed his hand down on the arm control panel, breaking into the transmission and shouting at her almost before the signal light came on. "Get off the frequency! Break it off! Do it now!"

She ignored him to answer Anakin. "You will do that only over my dead body."

Anakin laughed, a low and chilling sound, and Obi-Wan's instincts shrieked their alarm. "As my lady wishes."

"General, the Executor is targeting the planet." The tactical officer frowned at her board. "A point outside the city."

They had buried the command center deep under the densest bedrock the Theed Plateau had to offer, but it had no chance against a Star Destroyer's guns. And he was helpless, having underestimated Anakin yet again. The reactor resumed its panicking squeal. He had enough strength to keep it stable, but not to fight on another front. Not alone and outnumbered, even if Anakin's shadow had yet to make a move. His eyes blurred from the strain. He started to shout her name, but stopped himself before he betrayed her and jabbed a different button on the communications panel. "Qui-Gon," he said in a low voice. He did not let himself think about what he was doing except to project his intensity and desperation in the hope that Qui-Gon still had as much a sense of him as he did of Qui-Gon. "Don't let him do this. You can't be a party to this. It isn't worthy of you!"

Bile rose in his throat and choked off his voice as his body protested his overuse of the Force against Anakin's increasing pressure. The com channel remained silent; he cursed inside his head, but could not spare the attention to sever the connection now. It felt like Anakin was trying to twist off the top of his skull. He barely heard Nessim speaking in his ear. "General, the Executor has fired on the planet surface. We're not sure yet what they hit."

He knew what they had hit. Each tiny, precious death was someone he had known and trusted, and each life pierced his already-vulnerable mind as it passed into the Force. He gasped at the pain, fumbled for control, and suddenly felt himself slammed back into his chair, paralyzed. Anakin had finished toying with him. The command deck shook and alarms shrilled from every section. "The Executor is targeting us, General!"

"The engines are non-responsive. I can't take evasive action."

"Everything we have, send it at them now." Even Nessim's voice had dimmed. Trying to moisten his lips, Obi-Wan realized blood was coming from his mouth and nose. The control panels on the chair sparked and caught fire, but he could not move his arms away from the flames. Hands caught him, lowered him to the deck. He tried to wave them off, but his eyes were bleeding now, and he could not tell where or who they were.

"Captain! The Defiant is turning. Defiant is firing-at the Executor."

He would have laughed, if his lungs had agreed to inflate enough. So his old love had entered the fray after all. He wondered what it meant, in the moment before the shouting became a deafening buzz and the sickening blackness swamped him for good.

***

Cool air wafted over his face and tickled the bottom of his nose. He sniffed, twitched a little, and tried to open his eyes. Sunlight stabbed into his retinas, and he squeezed his eyelids shut again, concentrating on his other senses. The sun soothed his face, as long as he kept his eyes closed; the bedclothes over and under his bare body would have felt luxurious if not for the soreness and stiffness constricting his limbs.

He focused on his muscles and ordered them to cooperate. The pain eased with reluctance until he could lever himself up to sit against the headboard. Pushing his hair out of his eyes, he blinked and rubbed away the scratchiness. By the time the light stopped hurting, he could make out familiar surroundings. He was in a guest suite in the palace, one he had occupied before, though not recently. Even after so long, each corner and furnishing was indelibly mapped in his head from the days he had spent pacing every inch of it, watching Qui-Gon recover from a Sith-inflicted saber wound in this very bed. He must have done something to anger Amidala, if she had him put in here.

Then he remembered what he had done, and his nerves went back on alert. This could be Anakin's joke, not Amidala's. But he seemed to be in one piece, mostly healthy and unrestrained, and no stormtroopers or Sith lurked in the shadows. However badly he had failed, something, in the end, must have gone right.

Qui-Gon, his memory whispered, and his stomach somersaulted. He reached out on instinct for Qui-Gon, found him closer than he would have thought, and immediately pulled back. His heart raced, and when the door opened he looked up, fully expecting to see Qui-Gon there.

"Oh my, the machines don't lie. You're indeed awake, Master Kenobi!"

He found himself sighing with relief and disappointment. Not Qui-Gon, unless Qui-Gon had suddenly turned into a stocky woman in doctor's robes with short tufts of steel-gray hair poking out in all directions. "Dr. Tolbaba. Have I been presuming on your hospitality again?"

She bustled over to check her machines, discreetly set behind the wall hangings by the bed. "The Queen's hospitality, my boy, not mine." She winked, her appearance making the gesture almost as comical as her still calling him a boy. "She's the one paying the bill for your bacta."

"I'll have to thank her later." He tried to dodge her hand as it went for his forehead, but she lightly smacked his face back toward her, and he submitted. "No temperature. You Jedi heal well. And you shall not be thanking anyone-the entire city can't talk about anything but the debt of gratitude we already owe you."

"Hardly, Tolly-" he began with a deprecating snort, but she ignored his protest and ploughed merrily on.

"You and that young man of yours, of course."

His mouth opened, then snapped shut on another protest, ceding the futility of the gesture. Just as he would always be the boy who killed a monster to save the Queen, so Qui-Gon would always be the kind young man whose life Dr. Tolly had saved against tremendous odds. "Qui-Gon is here?" he asked instead.

"In the palace, of course." She held out her hand for his arm, and he forwent the usual show of protest over the antibiotic injection. "He keeps to himself, mostly, except when he's been in here hovering over you."

It felt strange to think of Qui-Gon here, watching him while he lay unconscious. He strongly suspected he owed the other man his life; he only wished he knew what that meant. "Do you know where he is now?"

"Bless you, child, of course I don't." She looked at him as though revising her estimates of his sanity in an unfavorable direction. "It's not my place to watch the comings and goings of Jedi. Except you, of course."

"Of course," he agreed, and let her press a glass of water into his hand in exchange for being permitted to remain upright. Qui-Gon was obviously not here as either prisoner or conqueror, and he would give his lightsaber for someone more knowledgeable than Dr. Tolly to walk in and tell him what was going on.

Then the door opened again, and he saw the one person who could provide all the answers, both the ones he wanted and the ones he did not. "Hello," he said, impressed with how steady his voice sounded.

"You look much better," Qui-Gon said as he moved into the room. For a moment Obi-Wan thought he was still wearing an Imperial uniform, but as Qui-Gon bowed to Tolly, he saw they were simple black Jedi robes with no insignia. Qui-Gon paused awkwardly by his bedside, studying him, then proffering a tiny smile. "Hello, Obi-Wan."

He studied Qui-Gon in return, untroubled by the silence that fell over the room. Qui-Gon looked worn and beaten, and the stark black gave his skin a sallow cast. But he was still beautiful. His eyes had darkened from the turmoil in his mind, which he made no attempt to shield from Obi-Wan. Grief-for Anakin, Sabe, and his own deeds-battled with relief at finally being home. Obi-Wan wavered between wanting to hit Qui-Gon and hold him.

"Oh, no, I'm so sorry!" Tolly, whom Obi-Wan had forgotten was there, blushed to the roots of her hair and switched off the monitors. "You want to be alone, of course. I'll go and tell the Queen that you're back among us, General, and I'll have the droids come and take these things out of here, since I'm sure you won't be needing them anymore. At least for a little while, I hope."

"Thank you, Dr. Tolly." Qui-Gon turned to watch her go, then faced Obi-Wan again. "I should say it now, so we can move on: you were right."

"I know." The admission, which for a very long time he would have given anything for, irked him. Did Qui-Gon think he wanted to gloat? "But you couldn't have figured that out five minutes earlier?"

"Be glad I didn't realize it five seconds later!" Qui-Gon snapped, then dropped his head. "I'm sorry. This isn't how I imagined this."

"You imagined this?" Obi-Wan had. At first he had envisioned elaborate dramatic scenarios, but after a while all he wanted was for Qui-Gon to walk in the door and say he had come back. The reality was turning out to be a mixture of the two, and he was not yet sure what to make of it.

"You've been recovering for nearly a week. I've had little else to do than think of what I would say to you when you woke up."

"Evidently I should have given you a little more time." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm grateful to you. This is so hard for you, I know."

Qui-Gon slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. His hip pressed against Obi-Wan's thigh, and Obi-Wan harshly repressed a shiver. It was too good to have his lover touching him again; it would make things too easy. Qui-Gon sat bent over for a minute before he turned his head to regard Obi-Wan with a twist of his mouth. "He swore to me that he would never hurt you. He gave me his word as the padawan of my padawan that he would not do you any personal harm. He said if it came to that, he would confine you and try again to persuade you to our side. It was the condition of my joining him, and I believed him."

"It was war," Obi-Wan replied. He did not know what else he could say that would not hurt the other man further. Qui-Gon had committed a fool's act by believing anything Anakin told him, but he was not even the greatest of Anakin's conquests, nor was it the first time Qui-Gon had made up his mind to believe something that went against all common sense. Anakin was the Chosen One. Qui-Gon had decided it was so, and nothing would sway him. After that, what Qui-Gon knew was limited to what Anakin wanted him to know, until Anakin had disillusioned him totally.

"He killed his own wife and children." A bitterness Obi-Wan had never heard before hung in Qui-Gon's voice. He wondered what would happen when Qui-Gon realized everything else Anakin had done.

"No, he didn't."

"But he didn't know that."

Obi-Wan nodded. "I wondered if he did."

"It wouldn't have mattered. I think he would have destroyed the entire planet, just to make sure you could not keep his children from him."

"He only spoke of the boy-did he even know he had a daughter?"

"Not that he ever said. And he is not a subtle man; he would have demanded her outright at her birth, as he did with the boy, if he was aware of her at all." Qui-Gon shook his head and straightened his back. "I started to realize then how badly he had blinded himself to the living Force, if he could not even sense his own children. I said nothing to him, and I kept my mind shielded."

"Why?"

"I...don't know." Qui-Gon looked off into the air, reliving whatever moments had begun to fuel his suspicion of Anakin. "I was not sure, at first, whether he was concealing her existence for his own reasons, or whether his perceptions had become so erratic that he simply did not know. I hoped he would take me into his confidence, though I feared the Emperor's hold over him had grown more than I suspected. But I didn't suspect true darkness in him until we arrived here."

Numerous remarks sprang to mind, dealing with people who blinded themselves to the truth, and how a great many people had seen the darkness in Anakin a long time ago. "You wanted to believe in your Chosen One." He sighed and lay his head back. "If only so many of us hadn't believed so much in you."

"They're all dead now, all the ones that came with us to Palpatine."

"I know. Did you think that was a coincidence?"

"It was the fortunes of war."

"No, it wasn't."

"I realize that now. I realize many things." Qui-Gon sighed raggedly. The broken link between them had already grown new roots, but even without it, Obi-Wan felt each new wound in Qui-Gon's mind. They would have matching scars, when this was all done. He wanted to tell Qui-Gon he understood the pain, but a rustle outside the door distracted him.

Qui-Gon rose and bowed as Amidala entered the room. "Your Highness."

"Master Jinn. I am glad to see you again. You will have to attend us more often, now that Master Kenobi has recovered." Her nod was stiff, and her demeanor did not soften as she turned her attention to Obi-Wan. "General, I see Dr. Tolbaba did not exaggerate about your health."

"I feel just fine, although I hope you'll still excuse me for not rising to greet you, your Highness." He smiled, trying to reach past the granite facade she wore, but she did not respond. "Dr. Tolbaba's idea of dressing me would undoubtedly offend your modesty."

"On the contrary. But I think we would offend Master Jinn." Her voice was courtier-light, but her gaze rested heavily on him. Guilt, anger, and grief swirled around her, heavy as the black mourning gown she wore. "I won't keep you long. I only wanted to thank you both personally for your service. You have both gone far beyond the call of any duty or loyalty to me and my people, and if I could find a way to repay you for what you have suffered this past year, I would do it gladly."

Qui-Gon cast him a sidelong glance, and Obi-Wan's heart sank as their circumstances became clear for the first time. Amidala had made her own assumptions about their situation, and Qui-Gon had neither confirmed nor denied them, waiting for Obi-Wan to wake and make the decision. And now she was looking at him with accusation and resignation, wearing her loneliness like a shroud that he could no longer lift even a little bit. Their small fellowship of bereavement was now a farce and a lie in her eyes, and even if he told her the truth, he could not destroy the ghosts that haunted her. His lover had come back to him; hers never would.

"Thank you, your Highness," he said at last, and Qui-Gon turned his face away.

She gave a short nod. "Senator Organa has just reached Alderaan. He sent word that he will tend to his duties there, then he will bring the children back and speak to you then."

"No," Obi-Wan said sharply, and her eyes flashed beneath lowered brows. "Have him keep the children there, at least until after he speaks with me."

He had taken them from her once, and in her darkest hour, he was doing it again. The regret he felt as she drew breath to protest only worsened when she closed her mouth without speaking, looking from him to Qui-Gon in a visible decision to trust whatever plan they had been enacting. He felt humbled by that trust, earned over years of blood and shared secrets. Now he just needed to come up with the plan. "Thank you," he said again.

"Sabe's funeral will be tomorrow." She drew the black woolen wrap more tightly around her, as if it would protect her from the pain of losing her most trusted attendant and friend. "The others have already had their rites, but I thought you would want to be there for Sabe."

"I would." Her consideration was genuine, he sensed. She did not blame him for Sabe's death even as much as he wanted to blame himself. "She was the most loyal friend anyone could want."

"You have one even more loyal than that." Her smile at Qui-Gon was small, but sincere. "I won't delay your reunion any longer."

"Highness," Qui-Gon murmured and bowed as she left and shut the door behind her. When he faced Obi-Wan again, the awkwardness between them had returned. "She assumed I went to the Empire as your agent, the one mole you couldn't tell anyone about until it was time for me to act. I said nothing either way, for your plans' sake, not my own."

"I know." He should be flattered that everyone seemed to assume he had any sort of strategy at all beyond keeping as many of them alive as best he could for another day. Qui-Gon, at least, should have known better; he had taught Obi-Wan everything he knew about thinking on his feet. But this would work to his advantage. They needed Qui-Gon's knowledge and skills, and the faster he restored their trust in him, the better. "You did the right thing. We need you, and they have already forgiven you."

"And you?" The intensity of Qui-Gon's questioning look made Obi-Wan's lungs seize up. "Have you forgiven me?"

He wished someone could give him the answer to that, too. But in the end, what choice did he have? They needed Qui-Gon. He needed Qui-Gon, with all his flaws and human frailties. And he was so tired of being cold. "I will," he said, and held out his arms.

Qui-Gon took off his boots, then knelt on the edge of the bed, hesitating before he lowered himself onto the blankets and into Obi-Wan's arms. When his hands found Obi-Wan's naked back, he let out a shuddering sigh and his weight settled fully onto Obi-Wan. Warm breath gusted against Obi-Wan's ear, making his skin prickle into tiny, sensitive bumps. They lay against each other, the bedclothes between them, and Obi-Wan let his hands wander through Qui-Gon's hair. Qui-Gon reciprocated the caress, stroking his fingers lightly from the base of his neck to the base of his spine, and gradually Obi-Wan relaxed as he readjusted to the feeling of Qui-Gon's embrace. The cold knot in his chest, such a constant companion that he never noticed it anymore unless something happened to jar it, began to ease and thaw. He had a feeling he would not miss it.

"I was never unfaithful to you."

"I know." The memory still hurt, but knowing it was a false memory had already diminished its power.

"I'm glad. Whatever else I have done, I didn't want you to think that of me." Qui-Gon's voice rumbled and tickled as he ventured a light kiss to Obi-Wan's temple. Obi-Wan remembered how good Qui-Gon's arms had always felt, how that voice in his ear made the universe make sense. "Our marriage wasn't all bad, you know."

"We had our moments." His lips tugged upward a little, scraping against the bristle of Qui-Gon's throat and jawline. "Unfortunately, the one I've remembered most vividly is the divorce." Qui-Gon stiffened, and Obi-Wan almost regretted his jest. He turned Qui-Gon's head toward him and kissed the corner of his mouth. "Change that."

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon said, but Obi-Wan shushed him with his mouth, and he stopped protesting. The kiss deepened slowly as they slid down onto the pillows. Obi-Wan loosened Qui-Gon's belt and pushed his tunics back from his shoulders until they slithered off to land in a heap on the floor. Pressing his open mouth to the revealed skin, he tasted metal and drew back to look at the chain around Qui-Gon's neck. He lifted it and fingered the silver ring hanging from it. "For safe keeping," Qui-Gon said when Obi-Wan looked up at him

He nodded his acceptance of that and resumed reacquainting himself with Qui-Gon's body. As Qui-Gon returned the favor, Obi-Wan cast a look over Qui-Gon's shoulder at where his utility belt lay slung over the back of a chair. He wondered if Qui-Gon had recognized it, but then Qui-Gon rediscovered his favorite place on Obi-Wan's neck, and Obi-Wan stopped caring.

Their skin was damp with sweat and saliva and their breath labored by the time Obi-Wan's shaky hands found the fastening on Qui-Gon's pants. Qui-Gon lifted himself up to let Obi-Wan push his trousers down over his hips. He kicked them off, then groaned as Obi-Wan stroked his freed erection. The sensation was as clear to Obi-Wan as though his own flesh were receiving the caress; he closed his eyes and groaned at the pain and ecstasy of their minds beginning to reunite in earnest. When Qui-Gon tried to lie back down, he stopped him. He pushed back the covers, baring his body completely to his lover's hungry gaze, and then his hungry mouth.

Qui-Gon adored him slowly, holding his hands down so that all he could do was arch and moan his appreciation of Qui-Gon's skill. When every inch of him had tightened in frantic arousal, Qui-Gon released his hands and moved back up to find his mouth again. Qui-Gon's face and body were flushed with arousal equal to his; it sang in the space between them as Obi-Wan spread his legs and drew Qui-Gon down until there was no space between them at all.

His body remembered the rhythm; the rest of him remembered how good it was and why, after the first time with Qui-Gon, no one else would ever do for either of them. The depth of the intimacy hurt after being alone in his mind for so long, but having tasted it again, no other bliss could ever compare. Soon all he could hear were Qui-Gon's sobs and his own hitching gasps; all he could feel was the threatening tightness in his balls and the friction of Qui-Gon's body, wrapped around him and rubbing all the right places. He grabbed Qui-Gon where thigh met rump and pulled them together in sharp thrusts until he felt the first spurts of their semen pumping out onto their abdomens. He let go and came hard.

His orgasm ran its course and left him limp and soaking wet, limbs trembling from the exertion. Qui-Gon used a corner of the sheet to wipe the sweat from Obi-Wan's forehead before it could run into his eyes, then collapsed, still tangled with him, with an exhausted groan. Obi-Wan started to wrap his arms around him again, but Qui-Gon sat up with a jerk, groping at his throat. "What is it?" Obi-Wan demanded, a spike of fear piercing his contented haze. After everything they had been through, what could possibly happen now to ruin this?

"Dammit!" Qui-Gon continued swearing and started groping over the wrinkled sheets.

"What?" Obi-Wan asked again, relieved that at least Qui-Gon did not seem to be dying. Then he felt something digging into his hip. He reached down and pulled the chain that should have been around Qui-Gon's neck out from under him. The clasp had pulled apart, but the ring was still looped onto it. He held it up. "Found it. I think we were a little too vigorous."

Qui-Gon gave a sharp sigh and took it, then smiled. "No such thing. Here, I'll find another chain for it tomorrow."

He started to put it on the side table, but Obi-Wan stopped him and took it back. "No, don't." Slipping the ring off the chain, he took Qui-Gon's hand and put the ring back in its intended place. "Keep it there. It'll be safer."

Qui-Gon looked down at the ring, then up at Obi-Wan. "All right," he agreed in a faint voice. Obi-Wan thought perhaps he should tell him not to take it as a sentimental gesture. The ring really would be safer there than on a chain that could break again at any time. And Qui-Gon's hand looked better with it on.

"Go to sleep," he said finally. The lovemaking had sapped the small reserve of energy he had built up while sleeping. He would think and speak more clearly after some rest. For the moment, at least, they had plenty of time.

***

"There you are! Thank the gods. Maybe now someone will tell me what's going on around here."

Obi-Wan turned away from the window to see Bail Organa striding across the throne room toward him. "I didn't know you had arrived, or I would have come to meet you."

"You would have been more helpful than the people who did meet me. That damned senile old governor." Bail snorted as he came to a stop in front of Obi-Wan. "All I've managed to determine is that I've lost two ships and inexplicably gained a Star Destroyer. But nobody can seem to tell me how that happened."

"I'm a little fuzzy on the details myself." Obi-Wan chuckled at Bail's sour expression and reached out to clasp his friend's hands in greeting.

Bail squeezed his fingers, then lifted one of his hands in surprise. "You have a lot to tell me, I see," he said, thumb brushing the silver ring on Obi-Wan's third finger. "But at least you're properly dressed."

He glanced down at his Jedi uniform and the sleek black belt around his waist, with a smile aimed less at Bail than at the warm presence approaching behind him. "I've been told I clean up well."

"He does." Large hands closed over his shoulders, lingering just long enough to give Bail a glimpse of the ring's mate. "Good morning, Senator Organa."

"Master Qui-Gon. So at least some of the rumors are true." Bail cocked his head, bemused but pleased, visibly processing the turn of events. "I take it you're responsible for the Star Destroyer parked up there that I'm supposed to bring home with me?"

"You'll need to recrew her first, and drop off the old crew in Imperial space somehow. They're in quarantine aboard her now." Qui-Gon moved around them to take a seat in the circle in front of the throne as people began trickling into the room. "But yes."

"Amazing," Bail murmured as he followed Obi-Wan to a seat. "I want the whole story, old friend. And soon."

"You can't imagine how much I'm looking forward to that conversation." Not that he would ever know the whole story, Obi-Wan reflected as he sat next to Qui-Gon. Let them all make their assumptions. The conclusion was still the same in the end: Qui-Gon had been gone, and now he had returned. If Obi-Wan chose not to dwell on the details, then nobody else needed to make it their business.

They had to rise as soon as they were seated, as Amidala and her retinue entered. "Thank you all for coming," she said, settling onto the throne, old Bibble at her right hand and Panaka in his usual place off to the side. She had a greater regal presence now than when Obi-Wan had first seen her in this room, enhanced rather than diminished by the simpler mode of dress she now favored. "Now that Senator Organa is with us, we can consider our situation and our next line of strategy."

"We'll need intelligence from inside the Empire," Bail said immediately. "Now that Master Jinn is back with us and Knight Skywalker is dead"--he cast an apologetic look at Amidala, who showed no reaction-"I'm certain there will be a degree of upheaval. Interesting opportunities may present themselves."

"You're right about the upheaval," Obi-Wan said. "But Anakin is not dead."

Amidala twitched visibly, her gaze boring into him. "What do you mean? His ship exploded. There was nothing left but a cloud of debris. No one survived."

"He is alive." It seemed so obvious to him; he had forgotten they would have made assumptions about this as well. "He must be gravely wounded, but I would know it if he had died."

"You were badly injured yourself," Panaka insisted. "How could you know for sure-?"

"No, Obi-Wan is right." Qui-Gon interrupted gently, looking at Obi-Wan. "A Jedi's bond to his master can never be broken. He would know. Anakin had a personal escape pod, built to be impervious to anything short of a nova. We easily could have missed it amongst the detritus."

"Well," Bail said and leaned back in his chair. "That puts an entirely different light on the matter."

Amidala held Obi-Wan's gaze as Bail went on about timeframes and logistics. He felt the bitterness welling up inside her; when it began to show in her eyes, she broke the contact and looked sharply away. He looked away as well, letting one part of his mind record the conversation while he stared up at the high vault of the ceiling. A flitter of motion at one of the windows caught his eye: one of Sedana's sacred birds settling onto the sill with a flurry of golden feathers. A moment later a second one landed next to the first and peered curiously down at them. He sent silent thanks up to them, then signaled Amidala. When he had her attention again, he nodded up toward the window. She watched the birds for a long moment, then the faintest smile eased the tight line of her mouth.

Qui-Gon moved his head enough to give him an inquisitive look. Obi-Wan shook his head. "Just gods," he said under his breath and let his arm rest discreetly against Qui-Gon's. "Don't worry. I'll tell you later."


End file.
